


you know that you should be my boy

by smallredboy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, Gay John Laurens, M/M, Minor Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, Trans John Laurens, Underage Drinking, in USAmerican standards anyway, mentions of alcoholic parental figures but its nothin big, this is gay, uhhhhh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Aaron Burr gets drunk for the first time when he's twenty years old, while in a tour with his band.





	you know that you should be my boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxsicalpup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxsicalpup/gifts).



> title from 'summer' by brockhampton.
> 
> a prompt fill for my girlfriend. 
> 
> enjoy!

Aaron didn't expect to be twenty years old and on a tour all over North America, but he isn't complaining. After their last show in the States- at New York, because that's where the band's from- they go to Canada. It's different, colder, but ultimately better and calmer. Aaron gets weird looks and people wave at him in the streets, most of them knowing him only by face.

After their first show in Toronto, John drags him to a bar. He's never been to one before- he's never been interested in getting drunk like his uncle did. Herc and Laf have, of course, next to John, gotten drunk even though it was illegal in the terms of the United States. And it always was there, too.

Laf is barely nineteen, and Herc is the older one of them, twenty-three and the drummer. Aaron tried for that position at first, but his vocal talent overrode his talent for playing the instrument.

"Are you sure this is legal?" Aaron asks as John calls for the bartender.

John laughs, loud, tilting his head back. He has his hair pulled back into a ponytail, freckles adorning his cheeks. He's beautiful, Aaron can give him that- he is the one that gets the most attention from their fans.

"John!" the teenage girls always yell, reaching out for him, treating him like an object, grabbing for him. Aaron always wonders if their treatment would worsen or improve if John came out as gay. He doesn't know if he wants to know.

But now they're there, in a bar, and John is handing him a glass with a brightly colored liquid inside it.

"More than legal," he tells him, tilting his head and taking a sip of his own. "C'mon, Aaron. We're in Canada."

"I don't..."

"The drinking age is eighteen here!" Laf exclaims, wrapping an arm around Aaron's middle. "C'mon, Aaron, stop being so stuck-up! Get drunk, drink a little, live a little!" Laf burps and presses a kiss to Aaron's head before pulling away to dance with a pretty woman.

Aaron swirls the liquid and starts drinking, his face scrunching up at the taste. But maybe he does have to loosen up, so he starts to drink, trying not to think about his uncle. He finishes the glass, and then it gets to shots.

John encourages him, looks at him with this sparkle in his eyes that makes his heart jump a little. He doesn't wanna think of whatever the sparkle means, tries to ignore how his heart skips a beat. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't.

"There you go!" Herc tells him, picking him up with ease.

"Hey!" Aaron exclaims, squirming on Herc's hold of him. "Put me down, you dick!"

Herc laughs. "Stop being a pussy!"

"Absolutely not!"

Herc chuckles and puts him down, elbowing him and pointing at John. "Go get your man."

"I don't know what you're--"

"Go get your fucking man," Herc says, burping a little and guiding him that way. Before he disappears from Aaron's sight, he catches him taking Laf's hand and dancing with him.

He stumbles towards John, who looks more disheveled than when he got there. He undid his ponytail, and the first few buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, a peek of his top surgery scars being visible.

Aaron sits down next to him on the couch.

"Hi," John says, putting his hand over his mouth and hiccuping a little. "How- how's the- how are- you've never gotten drunk before, right?"

Aaron swallows thickly, tries to not think of the darken of John's cheeks, how droopy his eyes are. "Yeah, never have. Feels- hic- a little weird. I don't think I should've gotten- I drank a... a lot."

"My dad drank more when I was a kid," John tells him, grabbing him by his hip and pulling him closer.

Aaron squeaks, but doesn't protest, tries to ignore how his heart skips a beat. The edges of his vision are blurry, and it doesn't matter, really. Nothing's happening here, nothing's gonna happen, he's alright.

"My uncle drank more too," Aaron agrees, pulling John closer, too.

There's only a few inches between them.

"God, you're beautiful," John tells him.

"Am I?" he asks softly.

John runs his thumb over Aaron's cheekbone, soft and careful. Like he's appreciating a great sculpture rather than the lead singer of his band, rather than the disaster of a friend he is. His eyes gleam in the darkness of the bar.

"Yes."

Aaron swallows and cups John's cheek.

"You're- you're beautiful, too."

John's eyes light up. He replies, "I know," with a pretense of arrogance that's obviously fake.

"You don't," Aaron tells him. "You don't. All you hear is from teenage girls who don't actually know you and your dad finds you repulsive and you're trying so hard and you're so good at playing guitar and-" He burps, looks away. "S-Sorry."

John moves his hands down, holds him by the small of his back. "Steady," he tells him. "Steady, Aaron. You're alright."

"I don't- I'm sorry I'm so- I'm so drunk..."

"Shh..." John starts, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Steady, Aaron. Breathe, clear your head a little."

"You're still beautiful," Aaron quips, voice a little slurred.

"I know," John tells him, holding him closer. "I know. You're beautiful too. Even if you don't know - even if you don't know it yet."

"John..."

"Steady," John says. He says it over and over again. Like he's telling it to himself, rather than to Aaron. "Steady, steady."

The words melt into Aaron's head, like ice cream on a hot day. Aaron can barely think, his brain feeling like mush. A part of him decides to never touch an alcoholic drink ever again. The other part of him cups John's cheek and reaches for him, pulls him closer.

John's breath catches in his throat.

"Aaron?" he says, breath smelling of alcohol right into Aaron's face.

It's disgusting, and it's so much like his uncle, but at the same time, it's John's. John with his freckles and medium-dark skin and freckles all over his cheeks. John with his stupid smile, with his stupid fake arrogance, with his stupid lyrics and his scrawly unreadable handwriting.

Aaron pulls him in for a kiss.

John replies in kind, so excited, so eager like he's gonna die if he doesn't answer. He kisses back, lips moving in a rhythm feeling all like him playing guitar. Aaron pulls himself closer, sits on John's lap, kisses him messily and needily and hungrily.

Aaron pulls away to breathe, feeling the alcohol in his own breath. He's a little dizzy, and everything's blurry at the edges. But John has his arms around his waist, pulling him closer, closer, closer, so he guesses it doesn't matter.

He leans into another kiss. And another, and another. Until he can't breathe, until he's hiccuping against John's lips. They're giggling, and John's laugh is so big and bright. He's a little in love, it seems.

"I love you," John tells him, voice thick with drunken slurring.

Aaron's heart stutters. He looks up, sees Herc and Laf making out in a corner, Laf's lipstick leaving a mark on Herc's jaw. Herc's shirt is off his shoulder, and Laf is digging his nails into it.

Aaron looks back at John. Eyes wide and expectant, dark brown; hair a curly mess, thick brows and a bit of stubble on his cheeks, freckles all over his face and his neck. He pulls him into another kiss.

Alcohol drowns the music out.

"I love you," Aaron tells him. "I love you. Fuck, you're beautiful." John laughs, big and bright, and Aaron's heart stutters into his rib cage.

"Steady," he says, digging his nails into Aaron's hip.

"Steady," he echoes, leaning against him.

The night dissolves around them, and Aaron doesn't think he's ever been this happy before. Not even the endorphin, adrenaline rush from being onstage compares to this.


End file.
